


Home

by extraction_iv



Series: The Many Mundane Adventures of Inquisitor Nolan Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:45:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extraction_iv/pseuds/extraction_iv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cole senses that the Inquisitor is in pain. Knowing that there is little that he can do, he enlists the help of someone that might be able to help Nolan Lavellan bear some of the burden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

"It hurt. I'm… fine now, it does not hurt me, not physically, but…" The voice tears through the twilight silence of the library, jolting the mage awake. Disoriented and dazed, he looks around as he sits up in the arm chair in his corner of Skyhold's library. Out in the walk way, he sees nothing. When he looks towards the window, however, Dorian Pavus nearly jumps a foot out of his skin. If not for the large hat on the young man's head, Dorian would have reached for his staff and lit the poor bastard aflame. But the accent, coupled with ambiguous, trembling words force the Tevinter slink to comfortably back into his chair. 

"I don't know if you've been informed, Cole," Deciding that yawns are terribly uncouth, Dorian takes a deep breath to stifle the one building in the back of his throat, "but sneaking up on others while they sleep is frowned upon by most parties. I nearly singed your favorite hat." He knows that his words have fallen on deaf ears as Cole averts his gaze to the ground. 

"Green like the poison I dip my daggers in, dark, dastardly; evil just underneath my skin. Itching, burning, confusing." Cole rubs his wrists. "It does not hurt my body anymore, but it puts a druffalo's worth of weight on my chest." - Dorian leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he listens to the Spirit - "The armor never fits right and it's too heavy, but they need me to wear it. The mark is wrong and it does not belong, but they need me to bear it. I am so tired, and everything hurts. Stories of what could have been plague my thoughts; the flames of Haven haunt my dreams. 

"Fire burns hottest when he commands it, and it's... scary, but the light chases away the dark." As Cole continues, Dorian can feel his heart stop. The creature of compassion has never been good for his health. "Witty, wonderful, welcome. Joyful and wondrous. Solas wields a magic that screams of wisdom and benevolence. But this... is a different kind of knowledge. Pride in power. A... lesson to be learned." 

Dorian sits up for appearances sake and offers a proud smirk. "I am wonderful, aren't I?" He jests. Cole cocks his head to one side. The joke is met with absolute silence as Cole pushes off of the windowsill and begins to pace.

"Dorian of House Pavus, recently of Minrathous." Cole utters the introduction that Dorian spoke in the Chantry at Redcliffe. He repeats it three more times, as though committing it to memory. He stops, back facing Dorian. "Wonderful. He is beauty in every way. Flurries of unfamiliar faces pass by now unlike they ever have before, names lost to the wind, but this one sticks. My chest aches and the hurt is forgotten for a moment. Lost and alone does not seem so lost. Intriguing, intoxicating, overwhelming, wonderful, always wonderful, from the moment he spoke. For a moment, when he helps me buckle back into the armor, it doesn't feel as heavy. Always a wanderer without a destination, staying still makes me itch, but now staying in one spot doesn't... seem so bad. Not a port in the storm. Too loving and compassionate to ever be temporary. Never a port in the storm, but..." 

"A home." The word both softens Dorian to the message of the monologue and sends a surge of melancholy throughout him. The spirit turns around. Cole practically breathes a sigh of relief. "Safe. It... hurts him less when you are there." 

A deafening silence lingers in the air. Dorian coughs awkwardly. 

"Well..." He touches his moustache as he searches for words. "While that's all fine to hear," - the greatest of all understatements - "I can't imagine that our Lord Inquisitor would want you to tell me all of that." Dorian chastises Cole playfully only to hide the furious beating of his heart. 

"He's... scared. The Fade only brings dreams of sorrow and fear." Cole wrings his hands. There is a forlorn look on his face as he admits: "I... can't help. But you can." 

Dorian knows that his face is flushed. Every nerve in his body is alive and at attention as a bittersweet combination of anxiety and humility overwhelm him. Composure all but shattered, Dorian struggles to stay calm. "And how would you suggest I help?" Though there is a kiss of obligatory sarcasm to the words, genuine curiosity forces him to the edge of his seat. 

"Go." Cole shifts back into Dorian's personal space, pulling him up by his wrists and pushing the mage out of the nook. Dorian is taken aback by the sudden accost. 

"Excuse me?" Incredulous laughter bubbles up in his throat. Cole stops pushing just as Dorian is forced to the top of the stairway. Holding out Dorian's staff, (forcing Dorian to wonder: when did he grab hold of the staff?) Cole only casts him a knowing look. He opens his mouth to continue his telepathic monologue. Dorian is more than happy to interrupt the rogue before he can even begin. "All right, enough, I understand. Lavellan needs my assistance dealing with demons, as per usual. Nothing I can't handle." 

"He likes it better when you call him Nolan." Cole slips past Dorian easily, disappearing down the stairs. When Dorian cranes his neck in an attempt to watch him go, the spirit is already gone. Only then, did Dorian finally allow himself to yawn. He descends down the stairs himself. His steps are careful as to not wake the elven apostate living below the library. Skyhold's grand hall holds only a few scattered souls: nobles from Orlais who never seem to leave linger in chairs and standing around tables. Madame de Fer, who had entertained guests for the vast majority of the day, has just excused herself for the evening: Dorian catches the Enchantress's eye and they exchange polite smiles. Dorian slips into the Inquisitor's quarters before he can catch the attention of anyone else. 

The stairs creak as he makes his way to the Inquisitor's door. This hall is completely silent, save for the whistle of the wind outside. Dorian lingers just outside of the large door, yawning once more. He does not bother knocking: he enters the room and ascends the final staircase to find the elf asleep. To say that his slumber is peaceful is not entirely true. Dorian watches as the Inquisitor shifts uncomfortably several times. He mutters incomprehensibly, brow furrowed. Dorian steps farther into the room just in time for his lover to whimper. The feeble sound breaks Dorian's heart. 

"Something troubles you, Amatus?" Dorian breaks his silence as he stops close to the Orlesian bed. 

Nolan Lavellan sits up in bed the moment that the first syllable is out. Labored breathing plagues him as he reaches for the dagger on his bedside table. When he sees Dorian, however, he drops his hand and yawns. It is a rare sight to see his long, auburn hair down from the well-crafted bun that he typically keeps it in, but the sight is not unwelcome. Typically well-kempt, without a hair out of place, Dorian finds an ironic pleasure in seeing him so disheveled. He makes a mental note to thank Cole later when the Inquisitor grins. 

"Nothing at all." He runs his hands through his mane. Though the gesture is made to fix the mess, it only makes his hair seem more wild. "What brings you here?" 

Dorian raises a brow. "A little bird in an… interesting hat told me that you might need some company." The moment that Dorian mentions Cole, Nolan's smile falters. 

"Oh?" He scoots over in bed, welcoming Dorian to sit. Dorian nods graciously and sits on the edge of the bed. He regards Nolan carefully as he speaks. The edge of the elf's cheeks are kissed by roses. "Birds in hats are never ones to keep secrets. What exactly did he say?" 

"Nothing that I didn't already know, I assure you." Dorian puffs out his chest, feigning arrogance. In truth, Cole's usage of the word 'home' still shakes Dorian to his very core. It forces him to rethink his initial answer. He leans over to remove his boots. "Mostly about how wonderful you think I am. There is, however, one thing that I was unaware of." 

He can hear Nolan swallow. "And what would that be?" Dorian can both hear and feel Nolan shift in the bed. He reaches out and - with long, calloused fingers - begins to unbuckle Dorian's clothing. Dorian does not stop him. 

"Helpful as always." Dorian glances over his shoulder to catch the lines in his lover's furrowed brow. He averts his attention back to his shoes. "I was unaware as to just how badly this whole Inquisitor thing has been affecting you. I've had my suspicions, of course, but you're always the pinnacle of composure." Once the top of his attire was completely unfastened and both of his shoes had been removed, Dorian stood, slipping out of his clothes and discarding them carelessly on the floor. If Nolan minds, he says absolutely nothing as his eyes dance across Dorian's frame. Dorian stands in his small clothes, happy to indulge the longing gaze with a hand on his hip. 

"You could have confided in me, you know." He scolds. "I am, unlike aforementioned birds, very good at keeping secrets." 

"I did not want to impose." The words are too professional. Dorian wrinkles his nose. 

"You, Amatus? Imposing? Never." Dorian slips into bed next to Nolan. He lays on his back, staring up at the canopy over the extravagant bed. The new comfort was very probably a silent attempt at making Dorian himself more comfortable. 

"Perhaps not, but simply having you with me is enough." Nolan stays on his side, facing the raven-haired Tevinter. "I don't want to burden you, Dorian." A stray wave falls into the elf's face as he closes his eyes, bringing himself close to Dorian. He rests his forehead against his lover's shoulder. The feeling of Nolan's slow breath as the Inquisitor makes himself comfortable raises goose bumps on Dorian's flesh. 

Moved by the sentiment as Dorian finds himself, the excuse is rather weak. "Oh, come now. I've burdened you with all of the dirty laundry of House Pavus." His voice is quieter than he intended: now that he is comfortable, sleep beckons Dorian once again. Nolan does not respond. "Entertain me, Nolan. Give me one of your burdens to hold, and I will be satisfied for the night." 

At the mention of his name, Nolan looks back up at Dorian for just a moment. He resumes his previous position and allows more of his hair to fall into his face, but Dorian catches the impish smile hidden beneath all of that hair. The silence lingers for so long that Dorian almost loses himself to sleep. Yet in the moment just before consciousness slips away, Nolan begins to speak. 

"When I hunted back home, it was for the clan." Nolan shifted so that his head rested on Dorian's chest. The mage revels in the feeling of the strong, lean arm that snakes around his waist. "But I was given free reign of how I went about doing that. However long I was gone, however far I wanted to wander from camp, whether I wanted to go alone or with someone… No one's life hung in the balance but my own. My decisions affected no one, so long as I came back with what the clan needed. I had a freedom that I often took for granted. 

"Every decision that I make as Inquisitor changes someone else's fate. The responsibility is," - a yawn breaks his sentence - "harrowing, to say the least." 

"Well, you've done a fine job so far." Dorian praises the drowsy Inquisitor quietly, burying his face in Nolan's hair. "We have yet to be devoured by archdemons, the disaster of a demon army has been expertly avoided, and the Empress of Orlais is alive and kicking." Dorian delivers a few airy kisses to the crown of his lover's head. 

"But at what cost?" Nolan mused. "We've very well made an enemy of Duke Gaspard. Stroud is gone. Haven has been destroyed. For every decision that I make, catastrophe follows." 

"It's a shame that the civil war rages on, isn't it?" Dorian feigns distress, if only to make his point. 

"Well, it doesn't, but-!" 

"And the all of the Grey Wardens have either perished or are forever under Corypheus's control. What will we do when the next blight comes?" The concern is laced with such sarcasm that Nolan laughs as he rebuttals: 

"Of course there is that, however-!" 

"And how will the Inquisition survive? With Threnn and Adan and Harritt all gone, I assume that we have suffered immeasurable other losses. If only we'd gone back to save them." Dorian looks down and finds Nolan glowering back up at him. 

"All right, I understand." Nolan grumbles. "You have made your point brilliantly." 

"I always do." Dorian grabs at the blankets and covers the two of them better. If the elf is truly angry, it subsides and he snuggles in as close to Dorian as is physically possible. "Don't be so fretful and pessimistic. It's unbecoming to your charming nature to be so dismal." 

There is a beat of comfortable silence. "Thank you, Dorian." The words are little more than a breath. "You always know how to soothe me. My heart feels lighter than it has in weeks." 

"As does mine, Amatus." Dorian whispers. He waits until Nolan's breathing is steady with sleep before closing his eyes to drift. Just before sleep takes him, Dorian utters the words: "Welcome home."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction that I have written in a very long time. Thank you very much for reading!


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